


Stress Relief

by CrypticGabriel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (using a blindfold), Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fellatio, Kinbaku, Loud Sex, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Painplay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Coital Cuddling, Relapse, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sadomasochism, Safewords, Sensory Deprivation, Shibari, Spanking, Submissive Shiro, dominant keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13713684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticGabriel/pseuds/CrypticGabriel
Summary: Shiro's stress and anxiety relapse tenfold, as tensions continue to rise due to the war. To try and remedy that, he and Keith agree to create an outlet in the form of a no bars, no restraints, night of fiery passion.





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AshAuditore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshAuditore/gifts).



> I'd said I was gonna have this finished... five months ago. But it's done now, yaaaayyy!! What started out as a gift idea for the very wonderful and INCREDIBLY patient James, developed into a twitter fic as a way of jotting down my ideas when I had no time to write. But now it's complete! I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> And yes, please heed to warnings if BDSM is not your style, but I hope the intricate aftercare you'll find after trudging through this is worth your while! (It indeed was my intention to rhyme)

_Tossing and turning late at night,_ Shiro runs into block after block while trying to sleep. He hasn’t slept properly since… when did he leave for the Kerberos mission?

He shoots upright in his bed, completely torn apart after another grueling nightmare. He feels various parts of his body, checking for any fresh wounds.

Fortunately, he’s safe. He’s safe and sound… But at the same time, he just feels so damn sick.

He’s sick of constantly being in fight-or-flight mode. There’s no such thing as rest, in his eyes. He can’t relax. He physically can’t. Zarkon is always planning to be one step ahead.

So, the Paladins have to be an even further step ahead in return. They will need to form Voltron at any minute, and at any time.

Shiro’s blood pressure is skyrocketing as he rubs his head. It’s been dangerously high for a long time, but lately it’s been getting worse.

He can’t think straight anymore.

“Focus, Takashi…” The way his voice breaks and shakes as soon as he opens his mouth makes him shiver. The stress is getting to him, itching at every fiber of his being. It’s constantly eating at him, pulling at every inch of him.

It never leaves him alone. “Focus!”

He’s harassed again by more intrusive memories from when he was the Champion. He thinks about certain instances he can recall from when he was strapped up and tested on. And his arm… He wants to scream.

He just needs to let out one loud, harsh scream into the void. And he hopes that his throat hurts during the process.

The stress is getting to him so bad that he can’t breathe. There is no way that he can go back to sleep, not while his brain is irritably going a mile a second.

His defenses are heightened. It’s not by choice, but just from the mere thought that he is so smothered and doesn’t know what to do. He inhales sharply when his chest constricts again on a forced breath. He knows this is going to be a long night for him, and he suffers alone.

Now that he really thinks about it, he can’t take harboring all of this stress and anxiety alone any longer.

\--

 _Shiro trudges out of his room_ the next morning for breakfast. As soon as he is aware that the others can see him, just through their peripheral vision, he quickly straightens himself up, hiding his anxiety behind a firm, clean appearance and a confident posture. It works.

Well, at least he thinks it does.

“Alright, Team,” he calls as he goes to join them at the table, “today I think we can have a bit of a break. How about only a few hours of training?”

He pays no mind to disgruntled groans and lets them discuss their plans. He doesn’t have it in him today to really say what’s on his mind. He can’t express that out loud in front of them. If it’s too much for even him to handle, then surely they’ll be in for a wild ride.

The entire time they’re talking during their meal, Keith has said nothing. Shiro notices that his eyes are directed on him. He doesn’t break contact once, and he’s vaguely aware that Keith’s starting to get an idea of what’s going on. The most he can do right now is hope that this nagging feeling in his gut will go away during his daily workout.

It’s all that he can really think of to get relief, even if that satisfaction only lasts a couple hours. Even less, sometimes.

Shiro tries telling Keith that he’s fine with a confident smile that he hopes is as reassuring as possible. But he should never doubt his intelligence. Despite knowing that he’s lying, Shiro hopes that Keith doesn’t question him right away—at least, not while they’re all out here together.

\--

 _Shiro hears Keith go through a_ third simulation on the training deck by the time he’s done bench pressing. Even then, his adrenaline is too high and his mind is still racing against time. This is doing nothing to relieve him. If anything, he feels much worse.

He doesn’t even bother putting gloves on before going to his punching bag. It’s not like his metal arm will take any damage, anyways. This stupid— _punch!—_ arm. He pounds at the bag for all it’s worth, adding more blows with the right. At first, it works.

He imagines someone else is there instead of the bag, and it’s the best known way to deal with his issues as he’s fighting what he knows will be a difficult battle to beat. He just wants to shout out an angry “Take _that!”_ at Zarkon as he’s pounding his imaginary face in.

Take _that,_ for thinking that he could use him like he’s some toy.

Take _this,_ for turning him into the Champion. That wasn’t the real him. The Champion was a god of war among a pack of bloodthirsty wolves as marionettes moved his limbs with such an aggressive sting to his strikes.

 _That_ one is for all the endless nights Shiro has been writhing in bed when he should be sleeping, tossing and turning while assaulted by mental footage playing in his head. It’s on those nights that he now relives that whole year in just a fraction of a second.

And _that_ is for all the time that he lost where he could’ve been perfectly fine right now, on their way home from their mission and receiving a warm welcome from Earth. Maybe they could’ve gotten a party, or an extra pay bonus, or even a chance to appear on the News again. He’d been rehearsing what he wanted to say to the reporters.

But if he didn’t get captured, he wouldn’t be where he is now. Does he even want to be where he is now, though? Quiznak, he’s so _confused!_

Frustrated beyond any human capacity, he continues aggressively taking it out on the punching bag. He no longer sees Zarkon’s face staring back at him to help with the illusion. It’s now just a dark wall. He’s beating at this wall with all his might in hopes that he will finally be able to tear it down. He has no such luck. It’s still standing tall.

The next frustrated growl he lets out is too loud for his liking. The knuckles on his flesh hand are hardened, bruising from the force he’s putting into his punches. He wants to make them bleed. He wants to feel the physical pain, not suffer through the mental one. He wants to feel something!

He hears a haunting voice echoing in his brain as he’s just taking his anger out on his fists. At this point, he hopes that his hand goes numb. All he hears now is _“Shiro, Shiro, Shiro…”_ his name growing dark and menacing in his mind while ice drips from the mantra. It tenses him up more, his metal hand glowing bright as he’s just mindlessly punching, and _punching,_ and—

_“Takashi!”_

He’s finally startled out of his trance, gripping the punching bag to stop the momentum. It takes several moments of doubt, but he comes to the realization that the voice chanting his name is actually Keith. He pants from the exertion and brings himself to look over.

“S-sorry, Keith. Too much?”

“Shiro, are you doing okay?” Keith frowns.

He sighs while pinching his brow. “I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind. It’s a little hard to think straight.”

“So, what’s up?” He watches him while his arms are crossed, his brow quirking up.

Shiro swallows thickly on a lump in his throat. “Look… I haven’t been feeling well.”

“Something a little less obvious,” he teases.

As he rubs the back of his neck, Shiro tries to read some mental cue cards so he can figure out how to put what he’s feeling into words.

“It’s all been getting to me, Keith. I mean, I’m fine keeping my head on my shoulders, but lately it’s been a little harder to. Y’know, what the nightmares and memories. And I’m so tense. I can’t sleep, eat, or even breathe without thinking that Zarkon’s gonna be right behind us. He could be here any minute, and we have to always be on alert.”

Keith sighs and gives him a knowing look, his face softening. “You can have a break, you know. Even if it only lasts a couple hours.”

“I need a whole week, to be honest,” he laughs dryly, leaning against the wall. “I just need to start fresh. I’m so tired of constantly being so stressed out that my blood pressure is threatening to kill me.”

The air is thick from the silence. Shiro is struggling to breathe evenly just thinking about it. Even after venting about it, he’s still on edge.

He can’t stop the pounding in his heart or the burning sensation tingling from the hairs on his scalp, to the tips of his fingers, to the soles of his shoes. And his hand’s still throbbing, too.

Oh. There’s a thought.

_Pain._

“I have an idea. And you’re going to think I’m crazy…”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Are you sure about this, Shiro?”_

 _He has to replay Keith’s question_ over and over again, just to fully grasp what he’s getting himself into. Even if they were to take it easy, it’s been a while since the two of them were “together.” They’ve been so focused on training and defending the universe that they never have time to settle down and do anything else, let alone have sex. It hasn’t been a top priority for them, for obvious reasons.

But the goal is that this will be the only thing Shiro can think about for a long time.

“I’m sure.” Despite the affirmative, he gulps audibly. “I’ll be fine. We just… need a game plan.”

“You mean, you don’t have one?”

“For once, no.” He shrugs. “My only plan is that I want it to hurt, but not badly enough to where I’ll need to be in a cryopod.”

“Yeah. Great plan.”

“Do you have a better one?” Shiro chuckles. Despite trying to keep the mood light and airy for the moment, he’s constantly shuffling his feet. He’s tempted to backpedal and forget the whole thing. He knew asking to change their current dynamic, specifically, was a bit much to ask of him.

“Well, no.” Keith still stares at Shiro from across the room. “We just gotta see what we have.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, trying to fight that seemingly never-ending itch. He has to get his head cleared up, even if it’s only for a moment.

“Let’s see…”

Shiro watches intently as Keith starts grabbing things and setting them down on the bed beside him. He has some rope, loose bed sheets, and some tell-tale, familiar items.

“Where were you able to find condoms in space?” he gasps.

“Who says they’re from space?”

“Who even finds the time to grab those?” he gawks.

Keith’s lips quirk up as he sets down a bottle that similarly looks like lube but the label’s in a language Shiro can’t understand.

“Now after this, you’re gonna have to tell me how you managed to find _that._ ”

“I think we’re losing focus, here,” Keith teases.

Shiro stares at the bed, trying to get back to the task at hand. They’re really going to do this—or at least, he hopes they are—and he has to prepare himself for it.

Keith seems to understand that his confidence is tentatively waning. He moves closer and takes hold of his biceps. “Now, run it by me again. I want you to tell me what it’s gonna take for you to relax.”

He gulps, his face flushing as he tries rehearsing what he’s going to say.

“I’m thinking of no bars, no retraints…” He fumbles a bit on his words. “And pain is no object.”

It has Keith briefly looking away. He watches him mouth on a shocked _“Oh, Quiznak,”_ before he can look at him again. “Okay, then.”

“See, maybe it’s not a good idea.”

“No, no, Shiro.”

His grip on Shiro’s biceps tightens, as if he’s trying to keep him close. “It’s not that. I just gotta… make sure this is gonna be exactly how you want it.”

“Anything you’d do will be exactly what I want,” he says almost immediately.

Keith hums at the comment, digging his nails into the fabric of Shiro’s clothing. It makes his breath catch, his arms tingling where Keith leaves scratches in his wake. He lets out a dry wheeze, suddenly losing his voice for a few moments.

Their faces are incredibly close together, breaths shaking at the mere thought of being able to touch each other. And Shiro is now starting to feel more than ready. “I need you,” he gasps while Keith’s lips ghost over his jawline. He’s startled by the desperation in his voice.

He can feel the grin against his skin, hands starting to travel elsewhere. “I think I vaguely remember someone telling me to have patience.”

He can feel himself pout. “You know very well what I meant by that. And that’s far too vague, even for you.”

Keith shoots him a grin before pulling him close for a deep kiss.

Shiro’s head is foggy, and for once it’s not because of the darkened, horrible thoughts that always invaded it. It’s a red hot, misty fog that doesn’t cloud his judgment too terribly. He invites this feeling in, slowly and surely. His worries start to dissipate, and the nails lightly dragging up his sides give him an indicator that he’s not entirely numb after all.

“Keith,” he gasps out when they finally pull away to give each other a chance to breathe. “W-we should get started.”

He blushes while they hold hands, their grips equalizing in strength. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They don’t even think to warn the others that they’re going to be busy for a little while. And they both know that “little” is a gross understatement. Shiro takes this breather as an opportunity to get himself seated on the bed. His wrist brushes against the rope, and as his mind plays out a sudden fantasy, it sends shivers down his spine.

Keith takes the old sheets and starts shredding pieces off with his blade. “These will do, right?”

Shiro gives him an eager nod while leaning up to receive another kiss. Their hands are shaking while they fumble out of their clothes. It’s as if they both realize that the more time they waste dilly dallying, the less they’ll have to do this together.

“Now, are you absolutely sure about this?” Keith asks slowly. “We haven’t done anything like this in a while.”

“I know. But I’m sure,” he insists, trying to give him a reassuring smile. He lies back on the bed, and he watches Keith gather up some ripped up fabric.

“Should we use the same safe words?” he then asks. “Colors?”

Shiro nods. “That works.”

As they both reach an agreement, Shiro raises his arms above his head. Keith hovers over him and takes his time tying his wrists together with the rope, leaving feathery kisses up his forearms.

Even after being bound, Keith’s still tenderly kissing his skin, leaving them on his fingers and above his wrists.

“There’s just one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

Shiro takes a shaky breath. “When you inflict pain… can you just use your hands?”

He blushes while nodding. “Of course.”

He then takes hold of another long strip of fabric, stretching it out from end to end while sitting o his heels. “Eyes?”

Shiro gulps while considering it. It’s a bit nerve-wracking. “Yeah. For a little bit.”

Keith watches him. “You can tell me when it gets uncomfortable.”

His wrists tug on the restraints briefly as the makeshift blindfold goes over his eyes. He’s bound tight enough, and with his vision limited it sends a thrill down his spine.

He suddenly feels the rope on his skin. He wonders how exactly Keith’s further tying him up. He feels the rope being wrapped over his torso twice, once underneath his pecs and the other right over his muscles. They’re tight around him, but not enough to constrict him completely. Each time he trembles, he feels the friction of the rope on his skin. His legs are then obscenely spread and bent back. He lets out a soft whimper, knowing that Keith’s looking right at him. He feels more intricate knots being tied.

“Is this okay?”

Shiro doesn’t realize he’s panting. He gives a firm nod, briefly stunned to silence.

“Verbal, Shiro.”

His breath hitches, feeling Keith’s breath tickling his ear when he suddenly whispers into it. Just before, he heard his voice softly spoken from above him.

“Yes,” he stammers.

He’s then rewarded for his obedience with a brief kiss on the lips. He feels the satisfying burn from the rope every time he tests the knots. He knows that he’s incredibly exposed, knows his love is watching him hungrily, and looking objectively at a situation that would normally make him feel helpless under certain circumstances has him feeling empowered.

The rope’s holding his thighs down to keep himself spread, and there are more intricate knots on his body. He wishes he can see them, but for now wearing the blindfold adds to the suspense.

“Do you want your arms tied behind your back with the rope instead?” Keith asks.

Shiro quietly shakes his head. “This is okay, Keith.”

It feels like hands are all over him now. In one instance he feels Keith rubbing his thighs, and the next his fingers are splayed over his chest. He shivers under his touch, his muscles twitching from the excitement. It’s all so overwhelming. His reaction times aren’t quick enough to take everything in, but he’s thoroughly enjoying this regardless.

He suddenly jolts when feeling a hard smack on his ass, the ropes keeping him restrained. “F-fuck,” he gasps, still feeling the sting.

“Too much?”

Shiro quickly shakes his head. “No, no—g-green, do it again.”

Keith lets out a pleased hum as he rubs over where he’d just slapped him. Shiro’s heart starts pounding once no longer feeling the warmth of his touch on his skin. He braces himself for another smack.

“You’re clenching,” Keith chuckles. “I thought you were supposed to be relaxing.”

Caught off guard, he wheezes while tugging on the fabric holding down his wrists. “I am, I am. It’s so go— _Oh!_ ” He gasps, feeling a hard smack on his other cheek. And yet, it doesn’t sting enough.

Shiro’s a fast learner. He realizes Keith’s not going to reward him if he’s anticipating it. For a moment, he wonders why, but in the midst of his trance, he receives another slap. The contact burns and sends tremors through the area of impact.

His mouth gapes open while he receives more slaps in an uneven, relentless pattern. The sting of it just feels incredible, and he barely notices that Keith’s other hand is giving him more attention elsewhere. Well, he doesn’t notice, up until he feels him pinch his nipple hard.

_“Keith!”_

His erection is already stiff despite being untouched, and once again it feels like there are hands everywhere. His chest is throbbing after repeated pinching, and his abdomen keeps tensing on gasps and moans. To top it off, the ropes digging further into his skin.

The burn is simply flawless. He whines wordlessly as his toes curl. He’s shaking hard, basking in the exciting sparks he feels all over his body.

In that next instance, he can no longer feel Keith’ shands. Without the contact, he feels incredibly cold. “Keith? Where are you?”

“Sorry, I’m still here,” he chides while rubbing his knee. “I’m just looking at you. You’re gorgeous.”

His eyes widen fruitlessly, despite being covered by the blindfold. The compliment startles him, and he says nothing to acknowledge it. Mostly because he has a hard time believing that himself.

“Shiro?”

“Huh?” His breath grows shaky as he feels Keith’s fingers delicately trace along his jawline. His lips brush against the imaginary trail he leaves down his neck.

“Do you want to go further?” he hums as his hands move down to between his legs.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” he slurs.

He needs more of this warmth and more of the pain. It’s so good that he’s starting to forget what prompted all this. Key word is “starting.” With enough of this feeling to sedate him, he’ll finally be rid of the thought-gripping stress for a very long time. That’s what he needs.

“S-shit—” He tries to squirm and is hindered by the rope. He didn’t expect Keith’s hot, wet mouth suddenly taking in his cock. With the angle he’s in right now, he has a hard time rutting his hips up into the feeling. Not that Keith would let him, with that iron grip on his hips.

His heart’s thundering in his chest, and all he could focus on was Keith’s mouth and his hands touching him everywhere. As hard as it is to keep quiet, he’s trying his best by shutting his mouth tight and merely letting out grunts, a sudden shyness coursing through him.

“None of that,” Keith tuts, genuinely sounding disappointed. “Open your mouth, Shiro.”

He shivers, tugging on his restraints while shaking his head.

“I thought you wanted to relax,” he teases. “You’re still tense.”

He hopes it doesn’t look like he’s bracing himself.

“Then, I’ll _make_ you open your mouth.”

He feels the sudden sting before hearing the slaps. Both is hands smack his ass. Once, twice—he jolts at each tense slap. And finally, he lets out a wordless shout. It’s beyond perfect! And Keith’s bobbing his head on his cock again.

He can’t help the tears that suddenly spill from his eyes. They dampen the blindfold, and Shiro’s tingling all over as he becomes incredibly overwhelmed. When the smacks finally stop, he twitches at hearing a bottle cap opening. His ass is throbbing at this point.

One hand soothes over the raw skin, and the low moan that falls from Shiro’s lips is automatic. His eyes are still watering, his mouth falling open. “K-Keith, yellow,” he gasps.

“What’s the matter?” His voice is tender, and Shiro feels lips delicately trailing up from his chest.

“Please… can you take this blindfold off?” He didn’t expect his own voice to sound so small.

Earlier, they’d both agreed to only having it on for a little while. Being overwhelmed also makes him grow anxious again, another wave of helplessness creeping out from the darkness.

“Anything you want, baby.”

Shiro shudders in relief as the fabric is untied. He winces briefly at the light from the room, trying to adjust his eyes. To further ease his tension, Keith leans down and leaves soft kisses above his closed eyelids.

“Much better,” he hums softly.

“Good,” Keith croons and gives him another kiss. “You’re so good, Shiro.”

He shivers at the praise and grins, shifting within his restraints. “I’m ready again.”

“Perfect,” he hums and keeps close to him, feeling his body slowly.

Shiro looks down at himself, seeing how intricate the knots tied around him really are. He shudders, twitching in anticipation.

Keith chuckles while his hand loosely strokes himself once, twice. “You’re incredible, Shiro. Gorgeous… look at how hard you are.”

He whimpers softly, staring up at his face as he tries taking nervous gulps of air in.

“Look down…” Keith’s tone is firm again, and Shiro is beside himself as he finally takes a glance downward obediently.

His erection’s flush against his stomach, already dripping. It’s very embarrassing, especially with the position he’s forced in.

“Keith… I—”

He becomes speechless as he watches Keith spread lube over his fingers. He shivers again and hopes that he can get him to start just from the awed, fucked out expression on his face.

“Hmm…” Keith watches his face. “Have you earned it?”

“Yes, yes!” He gasps.

He smirks. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Shiro gawks at him. “B-but Keith, you were just saying how good I was!”

“But how will I know that you won’t get tense again?” He teased.

He gulps, trying to steady his breathing to no prevail. “Because you’ve never topped me before. And I wanna… make it worth your while.” He trembles over his words.

A hint of blush grows on Keith’s face. While slicking up his fingers, he gets up from the bed. “Hm, I dunno, I’ll think about it.”

_“Keith!”_

“I’m kidding, Shiro,” he laughs and leans down to kiss his forehead. “You’ve more than earned it,” he croons reassuringly, kissing down to his lips.

Shiro’s eyes flutter closed, and he gives in to the sensation of being taken over. So long as Keith’s the one undoing him, he sees absolutely no problem with this. He barely notices his hand moving down.

He feels a slicked fingertip suddenly breach him. He can’t even remember the last time someone besides himself did this to him, but _fuck,_ he has a deep craving. After the initial tension, he reduces himself to a sated, molten state. He tries squirming to get the finger deeper.

“Ah ah ah.” Keith’s finger slips out, and he gives his ass a hard slap that makes Shiro yelp. His frustration can only get him so far! “Takashi, how am I supposed to take care of you if you won’t let me?”

He lets out a low whimper. “But I am, I am… _Please.”_

“Then, be still.”

He shakes underneath him and does his best to comply. He’s already so hard, and he knows that Keith’s fingers will be more than enough to help him get there. All he has to do is just obey.

He seems to have earned his reward. The finger he’d felt slide out just before is now teasing him, working inside him slowly and making him shiver from the sudden stroke of pleasure.

“Very good,” Keith hums when he stays still. “There we go.”

Shiro’s breath hitches. The second one that works in is even better. He loves the sensation of being stretched open, and despite not being able to see what’s happening at this angle, he can tell that Keith is working skillfully just by feeling him. It’s so hot, and the squelch he hears has him whining.

“K-Keith,” he gasps, trying his best to be patient but needing more of that feeling. But he has to keep his hips still. He doesn’t want to lose this. “…More?”

Keith frowns, which makes Shiro’s heart skip a beat. “Where are your manners, Takashi? I don’t reward rude boys.”

He feels like he’s going to cry. He fights that impulse, his lip quivering. “Please?” He has to force through layers of nerves to get that out.

When his fingers slide out to work a third into one smooth, careful thrust, he chokes on a garbled sound of pleasure, barely coherent.

“Please—!” His next attempt sounds a little more confident, even with the burning embarrassment of feeling wrecked with just the pistoning motion of Keith’s hand. “K-Keith, I—” He chokes, a hot flash of arousal bolting through him as he’s being fucked just right.

“You what?” Keith teases, his fingers still merciless. Shiro can barely speak without falling under more waves of pleasure.

“I need you!” He sounds winded. It won’t be long before he grows desperate.

“Shiro… I’m not sure what you need. You’re not being very specific.”

He outright growls from pure frustration, which doesn’t please his lover in the slightest. Just as he’s been reveling in pleasure, the sensation is quickly snuffed out as Keith moves his hand away. With another punishing slap on his ass, Shiro is throbbing while choking once more.

Disoriented and helpless, he quivers underneath Keith. For a fleeting moment, it almost feels too real. It’s sobering and a little scary, being in such a state of fear. Keith seems to take notice of that, however, whether it’s the cue in his labored breathing or his watery eyes.

Before Shiro can begin to speak out about his concerns, Keith soothes his raw skin and kisses his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he hums and ghosts a hand over the ropes. “That was too much.”

“We’re okay…” Shiro insists, his breathing relaxing. “It’s just… embarrassing.”

“What is?” The playful light in his eyes comes back.

Shiro can feel his face burning. “You’re not gonna make me say it, are you?”

Keith can’t help but laugh, knowing exactly what he’s implying. It’s the shit-eating grin on his face that gives it away. “Say what? I’m not sure what you mean.”

Shiro writhes in frustration. There’s no getting out of this one, no matter how weird it is for a man of his size to be objected to this plight of humiliation. His face hot, he looks him directly in the eye. “I-I want… your cock. Keith.”

“Oh Quiznak, you said it!”

That _bastard._

Shiro diverts his eyes, feeling so flustered. “So, can we resume?” As if startled by his own question, he back tracks. “Can we? Please?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Keith smiles and rewards him with a kiss.

His legs are manipulated into an exposing enough position already. But Keith still bends them back enough to aid the pleasure. With an extra coating of lube, he uses three fingers again to make sure Shiro isn’t dry from their pause.

Shiro keeps his head back on the bed, his breathing shaky as he waits. His throat feels dry, and he’s cold. When he starts to feel nervous again, Keith shifts through the gap between Shiro’s legs, hoisting them over his shoulders. His muscles scream as he’s nearly bent in half, but Shiro can endure it. He’ll be good.

The foreign push of Keith moving inside him makes him jolt.

“Steady, boy,” he murmurs, still easing in. Shiro whines in embarrassment, feeling like he’s being coached like an animal. The point is further proven when he feels a light smack on his hip. Like he’s a horse.

Funnily enough, he still likes this.

It feels like an eternity before Shiro’s practically stuffed full. The pressure and weight of it is stagnant, and it takes a whole lot of restraint to keep himself from begging for more. He wants to show he can be patient and obedient for Keith, to let it happen on its own.

Sure enough, his patience pays off. Just by pleading with the look in his eyes, Keith gets the message and begins a slow pace. It’s not enough friction to be mind-blowing, but it’s a nice wave of relief compared to feeling like they’re frozen in place.

It’s so slow that he can feel the way one vein keeps pushing through and catching on the rim. He whines and can feel his lip quiver, much to his dismay.

“Have you earned it?” Keith pries, knowing how much the teasing is getting to him.

Shiro gulps loudly while nodding shakily.

“Verbal.”

That one word makes him jolt. That’s _right,_ he won’t be rewarded if he’s too quiet. Keith doesn’t like that. “Y-yes.”

It ultimately pays off. The pace increases, and he can feel the angle shifting the harder Shiro tries arching his back against the restraints. Each time his mouth gapes open at another rough thrust, his cries reverberate off the walls. He knows trying to speak in the midst of his vocals being ripped from his throat would be all but fruitless, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to form pleas for more with his lips.

He feels helpless underneath him, but in a thrilling and exciting way. There’s nothing he can do but lie there and take it, to be used, and to please. He can’t think of anything else. It’s so good, and it’s already so hot. It feels like his entire body is on fire, radiating from his groin and circuiting throughout his veins and insides.

“H-ha-hard-ha!” He _still_ can barely form consonants. But how’s he supposed tell Keith what he needs?! He _needs_ more! He’s _so close!_ This isn’t enough for him. _“H-harder!”_

“My, my,” Keith chuckles, soon starting to run out of breath. He starts to slow down. “Shiro, you’re being rude again.”

 _No, don’t do this!_ He sobs and shakes his head, unable to speak again as a tidal wave of pleasure courses through him. He knows what he needs to stay, but it’s _so hard._

“Where are your manners?” he continues harshly, giving him one hard, deep thrust that makes Shiro see stars.

“Pleee— _fuuhuhuck!”_ Shiro can swear that he’s screaming, but he can’t quite register the sounds coming out of his own mouth. They sound distant to him, the echoes against the walls making it all the more disorienting.

“C’mon, Shiro,” he pries, tapering off into a moan. His deliciously hard thrusts are still agonizingly slow. “I know you can say it, baby. Be a good boy for me.”

That’s _it._ He’ll be good. He’ll be so, so good! He opens his mouth again, fighting through the gratifying urge to cry. He can say it, and he knows he can! _“Please! P-please— please, Keith!”_

He’s never felt so blessed for a reward in his life. Keith doesn’t stop, not once. Even as he’s struggling to keep an even breath above him, he doesn’t stop. He’ll do anything to make sure Shiro feels good. He’ll give him whatever he needs, and he’ll give him whatever he wants—given that he asks nicely. Keith is so good to him. It soothes any worries he had left in his body as he lets go.

He only knows a few words in the English language at this point, and he repeats those words over and over again, just so he can keep that satisfying feeling. And that’s until he can no longer take it.

He comes hard and fast, his mind completely wiped out as he can feel his throat turn raw from his unashamed screams. He can still feel Keith going at that relentless pace, and the sensation as he’s desperately trying to come down from his high has him trembling, more sobs being ripped out of him. His face soaked with tears, he feels everything finally stop as Keith buries himself to the hilt and comes. He’s holding him tightly, rubbing against the ropes that are now chafing him.

Shiro feels numb and beyond spent. He doesn’t think he can move, even if he were to try. They lie like this for what feels like an eternity, their senses slowly returning as their heated breaths fill the space between them. The kiss they share is languid and tired, and they take this time to just breathe.

“Are you okay?” It’s the first thing Keith says once their heartbeats return to their normal rhythm.

Shiro has to _really_ think about that for a moment, but when he’s sure, he gives him a small nod. “I’ve had worse things happen to me.”

He chuckles as their foreheads touch. “I thought the goal of this was to make you _incapable_ of thinking about that stuff,” he teases.

“I’m not,” Shiro insists while smiling. “I’m just pointing it out.”

“Enough pointing, more relaxing,” he frowns.

Shiro feels so, incredibly empty when Keith slips out of him. He watches his lover smirk at hearing his whine. Still splayed out in his bound position, his eyes follow Keith while he’s throwing away the spunked condom and grabbing more blankets. He soon returns to the bed, setting his supplies down.

“Let’s get these off you,” he murmurs while his hands delicately run over his flushed skin.

Vulnerable and pliant, Shiro continues to put more trust into Keith as he takes care of him. Every time he undoes a knot, Shiro can feel his joints, muscles, and skin collectively sing with relief. Especially because of the rope. His raw flesh stings after being so graciously released. After his ankles are released, the last remaining binds, he collapses limply on the bed.

He’s _so_ sore. He has to blink more tears away as he lies there, pain played across his body and crushingly weighing him down. It’s satisfying, to say the least, but he also yearns for comfort. He wants his burns to be soothed, he wants his muscles to relax, and he wants to be reassured that Keith loves him and is there for him.

“There we go,” Keith murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead. He steps away to throw his pants back on. Just his pants. “I’ll be right back, okay? I gotta get some things.”

Will he really come back? Shiro can’t help but think that as he lies there, unable to move for the time being. He nods slowly, already starting to doze.

With that, Keith leaves him there. It’s like he’s been gone forever, and Shiro’s eyes close as he starts to fall asleep. The throbbing sensation all over him is in time with the pulsing in his ears.

He supposes that he really wasn’t dozing for that long. He hears Keith calling his name again, his first name. Blearily opening his eyes, he looks over to see Keith holding a glass of water up to his lips. He’s climbing back into bed with him.

“Drink up, Shiro,” he murmurs, nothing but love and concern in his eyes.

Shiro forces himself to lift his head up, and Keith guides the glass so he doesn’t choke while drinking in small sips. He’ll be able to drink more of it once he gets his strength back, but for now he has to take it easy.

“That’s it,” he smiles and sets the glass down.

Shiro notices Keith holding a bottle and squints at seeing the strange liquid squirt out onto his hand.

“It’s ointment. Just relax, love. I’m taking care of you.”

Shiro’s already anticipating the soothing touches he’ll be receiving. Along the rope burns, Keith starts applying the ointment, lathering it carefully into his skin. Shiro hisses briefly at initial contact, but as it does its job, he practically purrs while relaxing deeper into the bed. “That’s so good.”

“Good.” He smiles gently. Even with the ointment coating his skin, it doesn’t stop him from kissing over the burns. His hands are so careful.

“I’m sleepy,” Shiro mumbles, his eyes drooping. It’s so comforting that he feels at ease enough to pass right out.

“Not yet, babe…” His objection’s much softer than the authoritarian tone he had earlier. “I’m almost done with the front. Then I need you to turn over.”

Shiro wills himself to stay awake and nods, shivering again under Keith’s touches. He doesn’t attempt to turn over until Keith nudges his side carefully to coax him. He winces during the process, which causes Keith to intervene and help him. Shiro doesn’t have it in him to protest, appreciating his help.

He feels more ointment soothing his back. More humming ensues, deep and sated. He swears that the aching in his body immediately is starting to ease. Shiro looks back briefly, only relenting when the soreness limits him.

“I have lotion, too,” Keith hums low in his ear, making him shiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” he hums, “much better.”

“Do you want a shower?” he then asks. “I can help you.”

“Tomorrow,” Shiro sighs. “I’m too tired.”

“That’s alright. Just relax…”

He then feels his hands soothe over his buttocks. There’s a sudden tension, realizing how much his skin stings there. But Keith makes him feel all better. The pain melts away, and he enjoys that sensation a little too much as he moans lowly.

“Doing okay up there?”

Shiro blushes at hearing Keith tease him. He does his best to lie still underneath him. “Yeah. Your hands just feel really nice.”

“Just nice?” He chuckles, and Shiro then feels kisses over his skin. “You’ve done so well, Shiro. You’re so strong.”

He smiles, propping himself up to drink more fluids. The more kisses he feels, the more distracted and relaxed he gets. “You are too, Keith. You’re so good to me. Thank you.”

When he’s done with his back, Shiro shifts onto his side to relax. Keith faces him, still using lotion not just on his fresh marks, but his gnarled and faded scars as well. It’s all so wonderful, Shiro feels like he might cry.

Eons later, Keith leans closer and kisses his lips. They feel each other’s bodies, a ritual so familiar and gentle. Their bond remains stronger than ever, and they can trust one another without any apprehension. Shiro wonders if Keith will now let him sleep, feeling his drowsiness trying to claim him again.

“Hey Keith…” His voice soft, he nuzzles the crook of his neck. “You should drink something, too. You worked so hard too, babe.”

“Not until you’re comfortable,” he murmurs.

“But I am.” Shiro smiles. “You’re doing such a good job of that. You need to take care of yourself.”

He looks unconvinced and keeps his head down.

“Besides, if we wanna do this again, you’ll have to keep your strength up.”

Keith gawks at him. “You mean, you’d wanna do this again?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Shiro grins. “There will be plenty of time where I’ll need a break. You’ve convinced me.”

Laughter bubbles up as Keith takes his face in his hands. “I didn’t think you liked it that much. I mean, I never did it before.”

“Of course, you are. You don’t need domineering experience to know how to take care of me.”

“You are a saint.” Shiro knows the look on his face that he’s giving him. It’s a look that warns him that Keith feels like all of this is undeserved. “I could kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you, love?” Shiro’s smile is stretching further, from ear to ear as he takes the initiative and kisses him. He feels Keith melt into it, and he keeps him close in his arms. “You deserve every ounce of praise I give you. Just like you assure me I deserve mine.”

Their foreheads touch before they exchange another kiss, deep and reassuring. Neither of them rushes it. They have all the time in the world.

“I’ll prove that to you, Keith. Next time,” he insists happily. “But right now, I’m gonna sleep like the dead.”

Keith’s blushing as he kisses him. “I love you, Takashi.”

He smiles sleepily, closing his eyes as he feels the weight shift. Keith’s getting up off the bed. “I love you too.”

“Now, get some sleep. While you’re doing that, I’ll drink some water, okay?”

“Good.” He smiles, nuzzling into the pillows. He feels Keith pulling the covers over his body, keeping him safe and warm.

His stress is gone. He knows it’s only temporary, but he feels comforted knowing that Keith will always be there to help him with it when it comes back. After taking a few final sips of water, he finally succumbs to sleep. It welcomes him instead of breaking him. He’s never felt so happy to go to sleep in his life.

As he’s falling deeper, he feels the warmth of Keith’s body beside him as he comes back to bed. That’s the last thing he feels as he gets the much needed rest he deserves.

**Author's Note:**

> This weekend is my 4 year anniversary on Ao3. Perfect timing ish, huh? Thank you so much for all of your support, in all the fandoms I've been in! I feel very accomplished when I look back at all the works I've done. It means so much to me.
> 
> [tumblr](http://tiff-the-little-wanderer.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/wandering_tiff)


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